A sweet young man sat on my chairWith a tape machine and a face of fearHe asked "how does it feel to be who you are?"I thought, this boy really thinks I’m a starI answered him with humilityAnd then asked him if he’d like some tea

InterviewWho’s interviewing whoAre you interviewing meOr am I interviewing you

He asked if the rug was some lovely ancient thingI lied and said “Yes, a gift from a king”I watched his arms and how his lips movedHe asked me if my parents approvedHe asked to see my Ruby ringAnd if as a child I had liked to sing

InterviewWho’s interviewing whoAre you interviewing meOr am I interviewing you

I said "yes, Oh yes" 400 times“You’re so open” he said “do you always tell the truth?”“Never,” I said, “What’s that?”

But how would it feel to hold me in your armsYou could get to know me down on the farmThen you could see me as the child I’ve become‘Cause being grown up can be so lonesomeBaby, how would it feel to hold me nowBaby, how would it feel to hold me now

InterviewWho’s interviewing whoAre you interviewing meOr am I interviewing you